Never a Dull Moment
by mgowriter
Summary: Uncharted 3: What happens to Sully after Nate is drugged and how they meet up again in the Rub' al Khali desert.
1. Prologue

**mgowriter's note: **The dialogue at the beginning and end is from Drake's Deception, written by Amy Hennig. Amy Hennig (like you guys don't already know) is the creative director for the Uncharted games and she, Nolan North, Richard Mcgonagle, and all the hardworking people at ND have made me care about characters made from computer polygons more than I ever thought I would, so they are awesome.

* * *

><p><strong>Prologue<strong>

They were walking ahead of Nate, trying to find their way back to Elena's apartment without bumping into more of Marlowe's men. As he started to climb the next set of stone stairs, Sully heard a grunt from behind, and turned to see Nate pulling something off of his neck.

"Nate?" Elena asked.

Nate staggered toward them, with the look of unmistakable fear in his eyes. "Run," he whispered. "Run."

_No. No, no, no, no. _Sully instinctively knew what had happened. He reached out his hand. "Alright, easy, kid."

"Stay away!" Nate said as he backed away.

Sully picked up the dart from the ground, confirming his fear.

"What's wrong with him?" Elena asked.

"They drugged him." He showed her the tip of the sharp needle.

"What?"

"C'mon, we gotta get him out of here." He walked towards Nate, trying to keep his voice calm. "C'mon, son—"

"Don't — touch me," Nate said angrily as he pushed Sully away. He stumbled, but pulled himself back up.

"We just…we just wanna help," Elena pleaded.

"Get away!" Nate shouted, and took a wild swing at her. "Get away from me," he said again, as he half ran, half stumbled in the opposite direction.

"Nate!" Sully shouted. _No, Nate, come back._ "Nate!"

It was no use. Nate had already pushed through the nearest gate and disappeared into the alleyway.


	2. Sully's Plan

**Chapter 1: Sully's Plan**

Sully started to run after him, but was stopped in his tracks by a bullet ricocheting off the street, inches from where he stood. Another bullet hit the stairs behind him, and multiple more all around him.

"Dammit," Sully swore as he was forced to take cover.

He pulled out his revolver and fired off a few rounds. At least half a dozen of Marlowe's men were converging on them, with more likely on the way.

"I'm going after him," he said to Elena as he started to rise.

"No, Sully," she said, pulling him down with all her strength. More bullets whizzed past above the stone wall.

"He's drugged, defenseless, and in goddamn Marlowe's hands!" Sully exclaimed. "She's gonna kill him."

Elena retained her death grip on his arm. "There's too many of them. We have to go back, regroup, think of a plan."

Sully shook his head. "You don't know her," he raised his voice over the roar of the now full-on assault. "You don't know what she's capable of."

"No," Elena yelled back. "But I know you. And I know Nate. He'll hang on long enough for us to get him."

Elena caught a glimpse of an agent to her left, rounding the corner. "Sully, they're starting to circle around. We have to go before they cut us off."

Sully swore. She was right. If they wanted to escape, they had to leave now.

"Come on, let's go."

He hesitated, looking back at the alley where Nate disappeared.

"Sully!" Elena called again.

He followed quickly, matching her brisk pace into the street.

. . .

Elena unlocked the door to her apartment, waited just long enough for her and Sully to enter, and slammed it shut, flipping both locks in one motion. They took a minute to catch their breaths.

"That was close," she exhaled sharply.

"Yeah," Sully agreed. "I think we lost them. Didn't see anyone for the last five minutes or so."

Elena made her way to the kitchen. She came back with two bottles of water and handed one to him. Sully nodded his thanks, and took a long swig. He wiped the sweat from his forehead.

"So, what are we going to do?" Elena asked.

"We," said Sully, setting down his bottle, "are not going to do anything. I'm going after him. I don't want you getting hurt, and he wouldn't, either."

"Sully, I can handle myself. You know that."

"You're right, I do, but you haven't dealt with Marlowe or her henchmen. They're the type of people that shoot first and don't ask questions. I can't risk it."

"That's bullshit," her voice shook slightly, the adrenaline in her system starting to wear down. "Look, I got into this voluntarily. Don't I get to say if I wanna risk my own life or not?"

"Elena." Sully placed his hand on her shoulder. "I need you here. What if he escapes and comes back? What if he's hurt and needs medical attention? You have to be here if that happens. I promise you I'll get him back."

"How?" her voice was barely a whisper as she fought back tears. "If Marlowe is really as evil as you say, what if he's already dead? What if they kill you, too?"

Sully lowered his head. "I can't think like that. He's still alive, I know it."

"What are you gonna do? We don't know where they are."

"I have to let them capture me, take me prisoner."

"That's crazy," Elena started.

"I don't like it either," Sully said, "but it's the fastest way. She probably already got out of him that I know the location of the Lost City. There's no reason for her to keep him alive after that. And Nate…he's not going to play it safe this time. There's a lot of bad blood between him and Marlowe. It's the only way."

He didn't give her a chance to reply as he walked to his duffel bag and opened a hidden compartment. He pulled out a pistol with a suppressor attached and a substantial wad of cash. Sully handed both to Elena.

"Take these, in case you need to get out of the city quickly."

She shook her head, still in disbelief about his plan.

"Please. For my piece of mind." Sully placed the two items into her hands.

"And this," he fished out a worn wallet from his back pocket. "I have a contact that spends a couple of weeks a year in the area. He can help, even from the states, if anything goes wrong."

Sully's hand shook slightly as he handed her the wallet, with the weight of the previous hour catching up to him. It was the only visible break in his calm demeanor. "Keep it safe for me, will you?"

"Sully, this is a suicide mission," Elena pleaded, trailing behind him. "There's gotta be another way. You can't—"

"I have to," he said, looking at her. "He's the only family I have — I've ever had, and there's no time."

Elena wiped away the tears she failed to hold back and took in a deep breath. "Okay, okay," she said, as she tried to understand his decision.

Sully opened the door.

"Wait."

Elena grabbed him in a hug and hung on until Sully gently pulled away. She wondered if it was the last time she would see him.

"Goodbye, Elena."

"Be safe, Sully," she said to the sound of the door closing behind him.

Elena wiped her eyes again, dropping his wallet in the act. She bent to retrieve it, and saw an old photograph float back onto the floor. The faded stamp on the back read, "Ica, Peru." She held up the picture to the light that streamed in from the nearest window. It was of Nate and Sully, from a long time ago. Nate was just a kid, somewhere in his teens. He held something shiny in his hand that caught the sunlight just right. It was a round, oversized silver medallion with an inscription that spiraled all the way into the center. He was beaming with pride. Sully had a cigar in his mouth and rested his arm casually on the younger kid's shoulders. They were both grinning widely at the camera.

Elena smiled sadly at the photo. _Like father, like son._


	3. Captured

**Chapter 2: Captured**

Sully exhaled deeply as he walked away from Elena's apartment. He hoped he did the right thing. Marlowe had nothing against Elena. He hoped she wouldn't come after her.

The afternoon sun illuminated the streets in deep shades of orange as he made his way towards the marketplace on the other side of town. He walked quickly, giving the impression that he was in a hurry, but stuck to well populated areas to make himself more visible. _Hang in there, kid. I'm coming._

Only a few minutes passed before he saw one of Marlowe's agents out of the corner of his eye, following a few fruit stands behind. Sully took the first right into a darker passage blanketed by carpets that hung in rows above the street. There were few merchants in the area, most of them clustered in a group further down the alley. _The perfect spot. Come on, boys, where are you?_

Sully barely finished the thought before a black-suited man jumped down from the balcony above where he stood. He felt a punch to his diaphragm and the air deflate from his lungs. It took his breath a few seconds to return to normal, when another agent from behind placed a calculated hit to his side. He felt a flash of pain and his legs give out from underneath him.

"Walk with us, and I won't spray your guts all over the street," he heard a voice say close to his ear. The cold barrel of a pistol dug into his spine.

Sully grunted as he pulled himself to a kneeling position. He saw the next attack coming, but didn't try to stop it. The first agent kicked him in the same area and a new wave of pain surged through his body.

"He said get up, old man."

Sully stood up slowly. He gave the first agent a look that elicited a moment of hesitation from the offender, and placed his hands over his head.

"Okay, I'm up."

The agent behind him pulled his arm down roughly. "Walk normally. We wouldn't want anyone to think you're going against your will, would we?" The henchmen shared a laugh as they pushed him towards the end of the alley.

. . .

It was a half hour walk to the opposite side of the city. They were careful to stick to the darker, less populated streets. Their destination was a nondescript market, similar to many others in the city. The open space housed the familiar stone arch architecture, with merchant stalls lining the four sides that made up the square, and a slow-flowing water fountain in the middle. Three round tables and a couple of chairs stood near the closest entrance.

Sully took in the setting cautiously. Marlowe sat at the center table, legs crossed and looking particularly smug. Three other agents stood behind her, but there was no sign of Talbot. Sully frowned. That bastard should be here, but something was important enough to pull him away. A quick glance at the table revealed Nate's journal, the cipher disk, and his fake press ID card, but he was nowhere in sight. Sully scanned the marketplace one more time.

"Looking for the boy?" Marlowe asked. A smile crept up into her lips. "You may be too late."

Sully's looked darkened considerably. "I swear to God, Marlowe, if you've touched him—"

He was interrupted by a hard strike to his left side from one of the captors.

"Now, now, Victor, I don't think you're in a position to make any threats." Marlowe motioned with her hand. "Sit."

Sully straightened himself from the blow and sat down slowly in the seat across from her.

"We have a lot of catching up to do, don't we?" she asked.

"Where is he?" Sully demanded.

"Drake and I," Marlowe began, "have just had an interesting conversation. He told me that you, and only you, know how to get to the Lost City of Ubar." She paused to study his reaction. "You could imagine my surprise when he said this. It's too bad you never told him the location, or he may be here right now, alive and well. You see, he was no longer of any use—"

Sully felt his hands react before his mind had a chance to process the information, or the consequences. He delivered a well-measured punch to the torso of the agent nearest to him, taking his sidearm in the process. He had the 9 mm Beretta pressed against Marlowe's jugular in less than a second.

Five safeties disengaged almost simultaneously, as the guns they belonged to pointed at his head.

"You're a goddamn liar," he said between gritted teeth.

Marlowe's head was turned away from the force of his pistol, but it didn't stop her from smiling.

"It's good to see you haven't lost your touch, Victor."

He pressed the gun harder into her neck, causing the beginnings of a red bruise on her pale skin.

"Put the gun down," the agent behind Marlowe ordered, with his own pointed directly at Sully's forehead.

Sully ignored him. His heartbeat pounded in his head. He could've killed her, easily. He pushed the weapon further into her neck, pressing against her trachea. It forced her to take jagged, broken breaths.

"You can't save him if you're dead," Marlowe rasped.

"Tell me where he is."

Marlowe's eyes traveled between the agents, communicating a look of, _do something, you idiots_. They finally rested back on Sully.

"He's with an associate of mine, Rameses. They're on a ship, headed for Saudi Arabia."

Sully relaxed for a split second in relief, just long enough for the man behind him to push him away from Marlowe. He was disarmed roughly by two of the others and forced back into his seat.

"Stop," Marlowe said, as they were preparing to give him the beating that he expected. She cleared her throat. "That's no way to treat a guest."

Sully's eyes narrowed. He remained silent.

Marlowe stood up calmly from her chair. She walked over to Sully, paused, as if considering something to herself, and a second later, struck him across his face. He felt the sting reverberating for a full minute afterwards.

She purposefully smoothed her jacket, giving off an air of repose. "I don't know what you see in that little piece of shit you pulled off the streets," Marlowe said, "but you _will_ lead me to the Lost City, or I will have him killed. Do we understand each other?"

"How do I know he's alive?" Sully countered.

"You don't," Marlowe replied, "but you wouldn't risk it."

Sully stared sharply into her eyes. She could be playing it either way. Marlowe was one of the best in the business at deception. Either Nate really was on a ship under this Rameses character, or…he couldn't bring himself to finish the thought. The alternative wasn't an option. Marlowe knew this; the twitch in her lip gave it away.

Sully broke the eye contact and looked down. In the end, she was right. He would do whatever she wanted, and she knew it. _Goddammit kid, where the hell are you?_

"Good, then, I'm glad we have an understanding." Marlowe stood close to Sully, examining him now with interest. "You've gotten predictable in your old age, Victor," she said as she reached out and lightly touched his graying hair at the temple. He pulled away roughly, refusing to look at her. She laughed. "Still quite handsome, but much more predictable."

It was the last thing he heard, before he felt a pinprick on his neck, and the world faded away.


	4. In Transit

**Chapter 3: In Transit**

Sully woke to the sound of rumbling underneath and all around him. He placed his hand on the floor. There was a constant vibration in the cold metal. Pushing himself up into a sitting position, he opened his eyes and tried to shake off the residual grogginess.

His throat was extremely dry, making it hard to swallow. He couldn't remember the last time he felt so thirsty. The constant ache in his side also wasn't helping much. He remembered the calculated punch to his kidney and groaned at the thought. _Great, blood. My favorite color of piss._

"He's awake. Go get Marlowe," he heard someone say behind him. Sully turned to see two guards with automatic assault rifles pointed at him.

"Don't. Move," the closest guard cautioned.

Sully sighed, settling on taking in his surroundings. He was in the tail section of a large cargo plane. Wooden crates and metal boxes took up most of the middle section, and the front held a large crane. Presumably, it was where Marlowe and most of her men were stationed. There were few windows in the holding area, but Sully managed to peek over the closest one to his right.

It took his eyes a minute to adjust to the bright, midday sun. Miles upon miles of sand dunes met his gaze, endless even from the high advantage of the plane. They resembled small mountain ranges, snaking through the desert.

There was no plant or visible life of any kind. The naturally crafted dunes were undeniably beautiful, but also desolate and hostile. _The Rub' al Khali_. He swore under his breath. They were close.

"Admiring the view?" Marlowe spoke behind him. "It's quite something, isn't it?"

Sully turned towards her, trying again to swallow. "You drugged me." His voice was hoarse.

"Protocol," she explained with a wave of her hand. "I couldn't have you trying to escape during our preparations."

Sully licked his lips with the little saliva that was left in his mouth. He tasted blood from a crack at the corner, and used his fingers to wipe it away. He was surprised to feel the scratch of at least day-old stubble on his face.

"I've been out for almost two days," he said, more to himself than to her.

"Ah, Victor, I always knew you were one of the smart ones," she replied.

"When are we landing?"

"Soon," she said, unwilling to offer any more information.

Sully studied her face. It didn't hold any clues to where they were going in the desert. He settled against the closest wall and closed his eyes. Waiting was all he could do for now.

. . .

Sully was surprised to feel the plane begin to descend an hour later, with the view outside remaining the same. The landing gears rumbled to life underneath him, but the desert was all enveloping as far as the eye could see. He didn't know if a large plane like this could land in the sand, but he was pretty sure it wouldn't be able to take off again.

He had to blink a couple of times to make sure he wasn't witnessing a mirage when he peered out the small window again, a minute later, to see the plane quickly approaching a concrete runway. He shook his head. Maybe it _was_ a hallucination, from the dehydration. He closed his eyes and opened them again. The wide runway was there, appearing closer with each second. The dark, small squares that littered each side of the lone structure had turned into recognizable trucks. He counted ten total.

Sully processed the information quickly in his mind. _I__t's impossible. _ It would mean Marlowe knew where the location of the city was all along, or at least a general location. That runway didn't build itself. It must've taken at least months to complete. How did she know where to build it?

He was interrupted by the jolt of the landing gears touching ground, but ultimately coming to a smooth halt. The back of the plane opened and the tangible desert heat took little time to fill the cabin. Marlowe's men started to unload the boxes as they exited, and Sully was prodded by the two guards to walk out of the plane. The leader of the two was obviously higher in rank, or had been with Marlowe's corrupt operation longer. As the leader, he stated most of the commands. He took pride in the fact that he was asked to guard the lone prisoner. The second guard was a couple of years younger, with a precise military haircut, and seemed happy to follow orders. They were different from the agents that were part of Marlowe's shadow. These were guys that had been here for a while, living in the desert. They were dressed more appropriately for the weather, wearing traditional shemagh head wraps with layered, military clothing. It looked like he would be stuck with them for a while.

Sully hesitated before stepping into the direct sunlight. The air outside was much thicker, making it harder to catch a full breath. He stepped onto the concrete and immediately felt the heat soak up into his shoes. The far end of the runway appeared to waver and hold water in its reflection of the sun. He looked down and noticed large cracks and crumbling pieces in the foundation. It was another mystery he tucked away for later analysis. So this wasn't Marlowe handiwork; the runway had obviously been built a long time ago. That meant someone else was looking for the city…it had to be decades ago, considering the degraded state of the concrete. T.E. Lawrence? Maybe. Or maybe it was built by the people who killed him.

The trucks were loaded within the hour and ready to go. Sully had been standing in the shade, but he was already sweating through his shirt. Climbing into the boiling hot back seat of his designated vehicle didn't help the situation. He wiped the sweat from his brow and muttered under his breath, "Like a goddamn sauna."

The drive to a seemingly deserted village didn't take more than an hour on the endless sea of sand. Its large, wooden gates were opened and Sully could see that it was actually occupied by a good number of what he now called Marlowe's desert agents, combined with some guns for hire. Most of the buildings were open stone structures half filled with sand from the frequent storms. Sully was lead into one of the empty structures. He heard Marlowe say to the others, "We're staying here tonight. Set up a perimeter."

The sunset swept through the village swiftly, and nightfall came just as fast. Sully was given food and water, and instructed to stay in the small enclosure. He was amazed at how quickly the temperature fell, and felt a chill as the wind started to pick up. The only comfort available was a small fire in the middle of the room. He sat down on the still-warm sand and picked up a handful of the tiny grains. They slipped easily through his fingers, reminding him of the time that was running out. He sighed and stepped just outside the stone doorway to look up at the night sky. He shuddered once more against the cold breeze. Without the lights of the city, there were a million stars seemingly just out of reach.

_Where are you, kid?_

He absently placed his hand in his pocket and felt the cool metal of the familiar object that he has carried with him for the past 19 years.


	5. Memories

**Chapter 4: Memories**

_La Paz, Bolivia, 1992_

It was a rare Sunday afternoon where they weren't in the middle of researching a job or negotiating a contract. Sully stood in the kitchen of his rented apartment in La Paz, peering over the stove at his latest creation. It wasn't a particularly small space, but sharing it with a teenage kid definitely had its occasional difficulties. Nate had gone to run some errands, disappearing almost two hours ago. He had been acting weird for the last two days, ever since they finished the most recent job at the Museum of Gold, but Sully figured it was just how teenage boys were.

Sully had a lit cigar in one hand and a wooden spoon in the other. Paella was one of the few things he knew how to make, but he made it well, having learned it from a beautiful Spanish waitress whose father owned the best restaurant in town. Her name was Adelina and the four weeks he spent with her during his fist off-shore leave from the Navy were pure magic—until her father found out what was going on under his own roof in the middle of the night.

Sully tasted the dish and smiled to himself. Perfect. He looked up from the stove as the door opened and slammed shut. Nate appeared winded. He took a few seconds to slow his breathing.

"You okay, kid?" Sully asked.

Nate looked up and grinned. "Yeah, great." He dashed to his room and returned in record speed.

Sully eyed him with concern. "I made dinner," he began, but was interrupted.

"Sorry, Sul, I have to go, I'll be right back," Nate said hurriedly.

"But—"

"Before you know it," Nate said quickly, as he exited the door.

Sully sighed to himself. He turned the stove to "warm" and began setting the table.

. . .

Three hours and two worried beers later, Sully was pacing around the apartment, unconsciously picking up speed with each turn of the corner. _Dammit, kid_. He replayed the scene back in his mind. _I'll be right back_. Where the hell was he? They covered their tracks carefully after the last heist, knowing they would be staying for a while in the city. Loffler had no way of knowing it was them at the museum. He continued pacing for a full minute, before finally slamming his hand on the dining table. He picked up his Smith & Wesson revolver and clipped the holster to his leg. Twelve extra rounds of ammo went into his pocket as he scribbled a quick note.

_Nate, if you come back and I'm not here, STAY PUT. I'll be back soon._

Sully was halfway out the door before he bumped into someone on the other side and they both tumbled into the dark, third floor landing. His revolver was pointed at the intruder's head before the other man could steady himself.

"Jeez, Sully, what's going on?"

Sully relaxed his hand on the trigger. "Nate, is that you?" The landing was pitch black.

"Who else would it be?" Nate asked, rubbing the back of his head.

Sully stood up and holstered his gun with one swift motion. "Goddammit, kid, I almost shot you."

Nate brushed himself off as he entered the apartment. Sully followed inside. He turned to get a good look at the kid under the overhead light. Half of his side was covered in dirt, betraying a fall on one of the unpaved alleyways of the city. Nate's opposite arm also had a nasty looking scrape, suggesting a hasty grab against a brick wall while climbing.

"What the hell have you been up to?" Sully asked, his voice a mixture of anger and relief.

"I had some things to take care of," Nate replied.

"What things?" Sully pressed.

"Things," Nate said casually, shrugging his shoulders.

"Things," Sully repeated. He shook his head. Sighing, he walked over and took a seat at the kitchen table. "Things that chased you through the back streets and made you climb the side of a building?"

"How did you—"

"It doesn't matter how I know," Sully said. He pulled out a cigar from his pocket and searched for the nearest light. "Look, you don't wanna tell me where you've been, that's fine. You're entitled to that. But kid, you can't say 'I'll be right back' and show up three hours later. I'm sitting here thinking you're in jail or dead in the streets somewhere and wondering how I'm gonna ship a coffin back to the states when both you and I aren't exactly officially _here_. You're gonna give me a goddamn heart attack someday." Cigar dangling from his mouth, he patted his shirt pocket and looked around the table.

"You were really worried?" asked Nate. He sounded surprised.

Sully gave him a look. "What do you think?" He continued his search for the matches, now eyeing the coffee table across the room. "Where's a goddamn light when you need one?"

Nate walked over to where he sat and extended his hand, unwrapping his fingers around a small, shiny object. "Here."

Sully took the artifact from Nate, recognizing the familiar shape of a lighter. He was surprised to feel the weight of it in his hand. Sterling silver. He gave Nate a questioning look as he inspected the detailed engraving of a small, single-engine airplane. He felt roughness on the back of the case and turned it over. The initials _C. A. L._ were carved in elegant script.

"What's this?" Sully asked.

"It's for you." Nate broke into a big smile. "For your birthday."

Sully was dumbstruck for a second. "My birthday isn't until…" He turned his head to look at the calendar on the wall. It was June 18th. "Today," he said in surprise. He turned towards Nate. The kid was now smiling from ear to ear.

"How did you know?"

"Doesn't matter," Nate replied, repeating Sully's answer earlier, doing his best to mimic his mentor's voice. His grin gave it away, however, and he was too excited to maintain the charade.

"Happy birthday, Sully."

Sully couldn't help but laugh at his infectious grin. The worry from earlier started to dissipate as he relaxed.

"Thanks, kid." He pressed down on the flint wheel and watched the small flame come to life. "Just what I needed."

He lit his cigar, took a welcoming puff, and examined the lighter again. "C. A. L…" He traced the engraving of the plane, noticing more of the intricate details the second time around. Somebody who knew what they were doing spent a long time on this piece. The lines were precise, perfect.

Something clicked in his mind as he retraced over the tail of the plane to the rectangular wingspan, to the miniscule, individual cylinders of the Wright engine. He looked up at Nate.

"The Spirit of St. Louis? Are you telling me this belonged to Charles A. Lindbergh?"

Nate nodded, his grin widening deeper, if it was possible. "And now it belongs to Victor 'Goddamn' Sullivan."

Sully was in disbelief. "Where did you even get this? It's worth a small fortune."

"I bought it," Nate replied proudly. Sully raised his eyebrows.

"Okay, okay, I traded for it." Nate had his hands up.

"I didn't know you had a small plane of your own to trade," said Sully.

"The jade knife from the museum," Nate explained. "I took it when we were on the last job."

"The negotiations didn't go so well?" Sully asked, referring to Nate's arm and shirt.

Nate sighed. "He wanted to back out at the last second. I couldn't let him do that, so I ran with it."

He stopped Sully's objection before it started. "I made sure I wasn't being followed. I had to loop around the city twice. That's why it took me so long."

Sully closed his mouth, and shook his head. "That was really dangerous, Nate."

"Yeah, but it was worth it," said Nate, still smiling. "Now you can't complain when I need to borrow a light."

Sully shut the cover securely and placed the lighter in his pocket. His smile turned into a chuckle. "You're right, kid. Anytime you need it, just say the words."


	6. Into the Unknown

**Chapter 5: Into the Unknown**

Sully snapped out of his reverie when he heard the younger guard giving an update on "the prisoner's status." His heart ached with the memory. Nate was only sixteen, then. Did he know he was getting himself into this kind of life? Did he know they were going to be shot at, stabbed, beaten, and now possibly killed? All for what? For treasure?

_Was it worth it, Sullivan?_

He felt the weight of the lighter in his hand one more time, and let it drop back into his pocket. _Is it worth it now? _

Marlowe appeared a few seconds later, followed by Talbot. He had obviously taken care of what he set out to do, and rejoined the group. Marlowe alone, however, stepped into his temporary holding cell.

Sully followed her with tired eyes.

"Come, Victor, you knew this was coming." She crossed the small room, stopping at the fire to warm her hands. "I need the location of the city."

"What, no foreplay?" Sully said unenthusiastically.

Marlowe cracked a smile. "Victor Sullivan, always the charmer."

Sully shrugged his shoulders, giving her nothing.

She made her way around his makeshift cell, stopping a few feet away.

"You could've been great, you know. We could've been great, together. I was going to invite you to join me, after that last job. My associates thought highly of your unique ability to find and obtain certain things, especially in this business."

"Thanks," Sully said coolly, "but no thanks."

Marlowe laughed at his response. "You would've said yes, if not for Drake. He's made you…soft. Tell me, do you really think he would go through all this trouble for you, if roles were reversed? After all, didn't you teach him to be the best thief he could be? That still entails looking out for number one first. Where do you think he is right now, Victor? Maybe he's escaped Rameses' hold already, if he's really as good as I hear nowadays. Why hasn't he come for you?"

Sully shook his head. "You're barking up the wrong tree."

Marlowe nodded, expecting his response. "Nevertheless, I need that location."

"And if I said I forgot it?" Sully asked.

"We can do this the easy way, or the hard way. You know there's a breaking point for everyone, and we have all night." Her words were cold and matter-of-fact. "Besides, you wouldn't want anything to happen to your precious boy, would you? His fate is just a phone call away."

"I'm going to personally make sure you die wishing," Sully said, matching her icy tone, "that I had killed you sooner, if anything happens to Nate. I promise you that."

Marlowe's stoic appearance didn't waver at the threat. "A hero among thieves. How romantic."

She placed a small pad of paper and pen on the wooden crate that served as a makeshift chair next to Sully. "The location. Now."

The stalemate lasted a long time, with neither party willing to back down, but it was Sully who eventually picked up the pen with disgust and scribbled the coordinates from memory. In the end, he couldn't risk anything happening to Nate. Let her have the treasure. There was always more, elsewhere.

"Plunder at will," he said, as he threw down the pad. "I hope it's buried underneath a mile of sand."

"Trust me," Marlow sneered, "it won't be buried underneath any sand. And treasure? Is that how lowly you think of me?"  
>Sully's eyebrows furrowed in response.<p>

"No, Victor, there is something much more valuable in the city."

Sully began to speak but she cut him off. "That's enough for now. We head off at dawn. Try to get some rest." She said the last words with obvious falsity.

. . .

Rest was the last thing Sully experienced that night, with the small fire doing little against the constant wind that howled and seeped through the cracks in the walls. He spent most of the night huddled against a corner, replaying Marlowe's words in his mind and guessing at what they could mean. He knew he was running out of time. He would no longer be useful to her as soon as they reached the city. Even if she did keep her word about Nate, she never promised him his freedom. He had to find a way to escape, fast.

The two guards that were assigned to him showed up just as the sun broke over the horizon, and escorted him to one of the convoy trucks from the previous day. Motorcycles were unpacked from some of the other trucks. The entire convoy was preparing to enter the desert.

They traveled quickly through the vast sand dunes until they reached a stretch of canyons that forced the trucks to tunnel through in a single lane. Sully, along with his two shadows, was in one of the front vehicles. He sat in the passenger seat while the older one took the wheel and the younger one stayed in the back, his automatic weapon pointed at Sully's seat the entire way. Marlowe's car was directly in front of his, and also behind the lead car, a giant cargo truck that housed the mechanical crane. It was apparent that the trucks and motorcycles behind them were only there to protect the front half of the convoy. The men that stood guard were heavily armed and on alert.


	7. Just in Time

**Chapter 6: Just in Time**

Sully first heard the faint _pop pop pop_ sounds of gunfire over the roar of the engines when they reached a particularly narrow part of the road, with tall, amber-orange rock formations to their right and a steep drop to the left. He sat up in his seat, straining to hear more. The gunfire came in short bursts, with a minute or two of silence in between. Whatever it was, it was getting louder, and closer to their car.

"What the hell is that?" asked the driver when he finally caught on to the noise.

"Sounds like gunfire," said his sidekick. "You think the guys are having a little fun back there?" he asked with a grin.

There was a crackle over the radio, a moment of static, and Marlowe's voice on the broadcast.

"You idiots!" she shouted angrily. "Kill them. All of them!"

Sully caught a glimpse of something from his side view mirror that disappeared just as quickly. _Was that a…? _ Before he could answer himself, a rider clad in blue appeared on a white, high-tailed Arabian horse, galloping beside one of the trucks. The rider was shooting at the guard, forcing him to take cover.

He stared more intently into the small mirror, and saw four more riders surrounding the convoy, picking off gunners one after the other. A loud explosion erupted as a bullet hit the gas tank of the nearest motorcycle. The bike, along with the motorist, went up in flames. _Ask and you shall receive_, Sully thought to himself. Before he could formulate an escape plan, he heard a familiar voice that cut through the chaos of the gunfight.

"Sully?"

Sully turned around quickly, thinking he had mistaken. His eyes scanned the rear window urgently. He forced himself to blink and refocus.

He couldn't believe it. It was Nate, and he was, incredibly, the lead rider, charging his way forward.

"Shoot him!" the senior guard yelled, as he pulled out his own handgun. He opened the driver's door and aimed the gun. Reacting quickly, Sully braced himself against the steering wheel. He punched the man square in the jaw, letting his body tumble out into the sand.

"Sully!" Nate shouted as he recognized who was in the car.

The younger guard had already popped his head out the opening in the roof, and started to shoot. Sully changed positions to pull him back into the vehicle. He unlatched the rear door and shoved the guard outside.

Nate was gaining ground. "You're alive!" he yelled with joy.

_Maybe_, Sully thought as the car started to veer left, with no one at the wheel. _Maybe not for long_. It was dangerously close to the precipice.

Sully climbed quickly onto the roof and jumped at the last second to the nearest thing — the truck that housed the orange crane. His hands grabbed the side of the truck, but there was no foothold to hoist himself up.

"I'm slipping!" Sully said.

Nate was almost to the rear of the truck. "Hang on!"

Sully felt one of his hands slip off the side.

"Shit," he said as he looked down and saw the rear wheels rotating at more than 50 miles an hour. He knew he would be crushed if he lost his remaining hold. Road kill.

"Help me!" he said to Nate.

"I'm coming, I'm coming!" Nate shouted back.

Sully felt a strong pair of hands lift him off the side and into the truck. Before he could react, he felt the same hands tighten around his neck. He tried to pry them off, but the seven foot, 300 plus pound giant that had a hold on him only squeezed harder. Sully saw Nate jump into the truck bed out of the corner of his eye. His lungs cried for air.

Just as his vision was starting to blur, he felt a hard shove from the left as Nate ran into the brute. It was enough for the giant to loosen his hold, but the force also sent Sully over the wooden railing. Nate caught him at the last second, with inches between his shoes and the ground.

"Hang on, I've gotcha," Nate grunted.

Sully felt his hand slip again. "I can't hold on!"

Nate looked around frantically. "Salim!" he shouted.

The same rider in blue appeared behind them.

"Grab him!" said Nate, as he strained under the weight.

The rider closed the gap quickly. "Take my hand, I've got you."

Sully grabbed his hand and vaulted over onto the horse. He looked back at the truck to see the brute punch Nate in the gut and push him toward the far corner of the platform.

"We have to help him," he yelled over the sound of galloping hooves. Sully could feel the horse slowing with the added weight. They were losing ground quickly.

"Can you handle the horse?" The rider yelled over his shoulder.

Sully nodded. "Yeah."

The rider whistled shrilly and a couple of seconds later, another white-haired stallion emerged beside them. He half-stood on the saddle and jumped to a perfect landing on the other horse. Sully grabbed the reins and pushed on. He caught up to the head truck to see Nate jump onto the arm of the crane and kick the brute. The crane swung to the right from his momentum, nearly hitting a jutting rock formation. Nate hung onto the middle of the crane for dear life. They both saw the next turn on the road at the same time, with a wall of rock rushing up fast. It would hit Nate in less than ten seconds.

_Shit. Shit shit shit._ Sully swore aloud in similar fashion. He dug his heels into the horse's side. He wasn't going to make it in time.

Sully couldn't believe his eyes when he saw, out of nowhere and just in time, the horse that Nate was riding earlier appear underneath him. It galloped forward at the same speed as the truck. He looked up at Nate, dangling above, and down at the gray coated stallion. _Come on, kid, you've got one shot at this_.

Nate jumped onto the horse just as the arm of the crane slid against the rocks, forcing the truck to veer left. The sudden turn was too much, and the vehicle tumbled to its side, sliding until it fell off the cliff.

Sully let himself breathe for the first time in what seemed like minutes.

_Jesus, kid, too close_.

. . .

They led the horses to a stop, and both dismounted. Sully shook his head, unable to forget the image of Nate hanging from the crane. He wouldn't've made it in time, he was sure of it. If not for that damn horse…

"Hey," Nate said as he rushed into an embrace.

Sully grunted at the impact. Nate's arms wrapped around him with more force than he expected. For the tough act that the kid put on, Sully knew he had a soft interior. He worried and fretted over things just like everyone else, especially things that concerned Sully and his safety. The same thing could be said the other way around. Sully couldn't count how many nights he stayed up wondering where the damn kid had run off to, and if he was okay, or hurt, or dying in a ditch somewhere. Early on, those were the nights he felt more like a father than a mentor or partner. Sully returned the embrace, feeling the tenseness in Nate's body. The kid had been worried about him, really worried. He gave Nate a couple of pats on the back, saying, _See? I'm okay_.

"You alright?" Nate asked to confirm, as they faced each other. He gave Sully a once over, looking for any signs of harm. His eyes were almost wild, producing a look of adrenaline-laced concern.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," Sully began, studying Nate in return. He was looking a lot worse for wear since the last time they saw each other. Sully shook his head. "But damn, I was sure they'd kill you, kid."

"Well they tried, right?" Nate said with a tense laugh.

Sully took a second look at Nate. He seemed exhausted, as if the natural rush from the last ten minutes was the only thing that was keeping him on his feet.

"So how the hell did you find me all the way out here?" Sully asked.

"I had some help." Nate pointed to the man in blue, who rode up to them.

"Salim," he said, as he reached down and took Sully's hand.

"Sullivan," Sully replied. "Thank you." They exchanged looks. He was thanking him for more than just the save back at the truck.

"We haven't much time," Salim continued. "We cannot allow them to reach the city."

Nate hesitated. "I…I don't know…" He looked at Sully, unwilling to risk his mentor and friend's life again so soon. He was beginning to think the risks of this treasure hunt were no longer worth the rewards.

Sully sighed. He remembered Marlowe's words in the stone village.

"He's right, Nate. I've been trapped with those crazy bastards for days." He started to mount his horse, ignoring the multiple bruises and aches on his body. "I don't know what the hell it is Marlowe's after exactly, but it sure as hell ain't treasure. We gotta stop'em."

Nate looked up at him, still undecided.

Sully gave him a nod. His look said everything. _Come on, kid, let's finish this and get the hell home_.

"Drake, we must go, now!" said Salim.

Nate mounted his horse and readied himself.

"Never a dull moment, huh Sully?"

Sully laughed, both of them realizing the full meaning of Nate's words. "Why change now?"


End file.
